Mercy

     "God grant me mercy."
     "Have mercy on me."
     "Mercy, me."
     Somehow mercy has always seemed elusive to me.  I don't mean that, as I return to its late 12th-century usage,  "God's forgiveness of his creatures' offenses," that I do not know what seeking mercy means.  Maybe I don't.  Yet, if I do know what mercy means, my understanding does not meet my standards. "Before you utter a word in a prayer, make sure you know what it means...don't leave your mind outside the door of the church."  I am called to be attentive to mercy.
     I apologize at the drop of a hat.  I am the daughter of a man, whom I tease.  He apologizes for breathing, or so it seems.  That is, if he can breathe the breath necessary to utter the apology.
     My knee-jerk apologies may be a result of osmosis--living with a recovering apologizer.  Or, maybe it has something to do with trying to apologize for physical appearance that was either unacceptable, at worst, or misunderstood, at best.  Maybe, I want so desperately to live up to Ray's mantra, "When I die, don't be sad.  I have made amends with everyone I have had differences with," that I do not allow for the possibility of forgiveness not taking place.  Maybe, my apology is my expedition between misunderstandings, and differences, and being on good terms with each individual in my life.  I do not want there to be any chance that I may fail to fulfill Ray's words.
     It seemed that I was responsible to mediate any misunderstanding that anyone had about my appearance.  I embarrassed myself many times in trying to anticipate--to expedite--the misunderstandings of other people by offering an explanation for my differences.  Now, I am open to questions, but, I prefer to convey an openness that welcomes the airing of any concerns, or hesitations.  
     So, mercy.  
     It is beyond my capacity to count the number of times I have heard the priest at Mass say the words, "May almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins, and bring us to everlasting life."  Then, the priest pauses for a moment of reflection.  How is it possible to reflective about an elusion--an evasion of understanding?
     I am astonished.  It is so easy to lose a sense of awe at how often we are forgiven--lost in the trap of an elusive word--lost in mercy.
    Forgive me for fearing mercy's reach--mercy's ever-present spirit.